


A Pleasant Evening: A Garak/Bashir Parody

by MKK



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Dom/sub Play, Hand Feeding, Kissing, Light Bondage, M/M, Oral Sex, Parody, Whipped Cream, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-23
Updated: 2014-08-23
Packaged: 2018-02-14 09:27:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2186514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MKK/pseuds/MKK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the beloved Garak/Bashir tradition, our heroes find love, conflict, misunderstanding, and - each other, all while enjoying a very pleasant evening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Pleasant Evening: A Garak/Bashir Parody

**Author's Note:**

> I adore Garak and Bashir as well as Garak/Bashir, and I love many of the standard themes that always seem to crop up in all our stories. But once in a while, I've got to admit that some of those themes can start to seem a little, well, silly... Which won't prevent me from using them seriously again (and again,) but at least for now, let's join our friends as they share a lovely G/B evening...

Doctor Julian Bashir was having a bad day. In fact, 'bad' wasn't even the word for it - it was an absolutely horrible day. He had snapped at the nurses, been rude to three of his patients, and severely stubbed his toe while kicking the door of the turbolift. His normally calm and unflappable nature was in a turmoil since Elim Garak, DS9's resident Cardassian tailor and Bashir's best friend, had tried to kiss him a week ago.

All right, so it HAD been in a holosuite, Bashir reflected, and all right, so they HAD been portraying two gentlemen from France, greeting one another after a long separation. Garak had still been way out of line - "I'm a 100% normal heterosexual male," Bashir had mused, "and, damn it, I'd better make that clear to him." So he had been studiously avoiding Garak for the past week, and Garak, undoubtedly still a little miffed over Bashir's savage kick to his groin, wasn't going out of his way to be friendly, either.

Yet Bashir was finding it increasingly difficult to ignore the attraction he had always felt for his Cardassian friend, an attraction that the attempted kiss had begun to push over the edge into full-blown love. Just the thought of Garak had now become enough to send him into an agony of arousal, a keen throbbing in his body that Bashir no longer felt he could ignore. "Damn it anyway," he thought. "I'm going to find him and tell him how I REALLY feel - I'm going to apologize for that little incident and tell him how much I want him." He cleared his calendar for the rest of the afternoon, said good-bye to his two puzzled nurses, and headed out the door of the infirmary toward Quark's.

He vaguely remembered that Garak had begun spending his lunch hours in a holosuite at Quark's, indulging himself in a Cardassian sauna program. "That is, now that his lunches with ME have fallen by the wayside," Bashir guiltily mused. Well, this was going to be even better than a lunch date - he could sneak into the sauna and glory in the sight of Garak's naked body, glistening with moisture and sparkling in the light. He licked his lips and entered the bar; Quark was nowhere to be seen, but an unfamiliar waiter, undoubtedly a new arrival, was polishing glasses behind the counter.

"Excuse me," Bashir said politely. "Would you happen to know if a holosuite is in use?"

"Yes - Holosuite Three," the waiter answered.

"And, um... could I ask if Mister Garak is the one using it?"

"Garak?"

"Yes, a Cardassian, Garak. Rather gray, blue eyes, muscular - " He cleared his throat and waited.

"Oh, there IS a Cardassian in Holosuite Three. It must be this Garak," the waiter said happily.

Bashir thanked him as he handed him a slip of latinum, then climbed the stairs to the holosuites, his heart pounding. He reached the entrance to Holosuite Three and prayed that the door would open to his code - it would. He identified himself to the computer and timidly entered the room.

The sauna program had evidently been terminated, because all Bashir could see now was an ornate booth of some kind, probably a luxurious bathing facility since the faint sound of running water was emanating from within. "How I'd love to march right in on him and press him against me, there in that shower," Bashir mused. "Yes! I'll do it! I'm going to do it!" But his resolve melted away when he thought of the kick Garak would probably deliver to him in return. No, the best thing to do would be to just tell Garak exactly how he felt toward him, and let him be the one to make the next move.

He crept to the closed door of the cubicle, then loudly called out, "Are you in there? Listen, Cardassian! I have something to say to you!" The water stopped running - he could sense Garak waiting expectantly inside. He hesitated, then began, "Listen to me - I WANT you, you big, sexy, gorgeous Cardassian male. I want you NOW! I want to feel your magnificent scales rubbing me all over, inside and out. Do you hear me? Do I make myself CLEAR?" He paused. "Come on out of there - I'm waiting for you. If you make me wait any longer, I may have to beat your beautiful body into submission before I let you touch me. Do you want to touch me, Cardassian?" There was a sudden movement, and Bashir looked up to see Gul Dukat standing in the doorway, a towel wrapped around his waist.

"Such impatience, doctor!" He clucked his tongue. "I'll be with you in a moment. I'd like to dry off first - I'm at somewhat of a disadvantage right now, don't you think?" He smiled good-naturedly.

"Aaaahhh!" Bashir screamed, then ran headlong out of the holosuite and down the stairs, nearly plowing the young waiter over in his haste. He flew to his quarters and collapsed behind the door, panting, "Damn, damn, DAMN! Why wasn't I more careful? Why would I expect a new employee to know exactly who GARAK is? DAMN!"

What could he do now? He had better find Garak immediately before Dukat got to either one of them. Bashir staggered over to his communications unit and signaled Garak's quarters.

"Yes?" the soft voice answered.

"Oh Garak, thank God you're home. I was hoping I could come to see you, as soon as possible."

"Of course, doctor," Garak replied. "Come for dinner - I'd be very glad to have you." Did he only imagine it, Bashir wondered, or did Garak place a special emphasis on the word "have"? No matter - "I'm on my way," Bashir said, ending the transmission.

He raced down the corridors like a fugitive, wildly looking around in every direction, flying past open doorways and unused passages. He was panting and disheveled by the time he arrived at Garak's quarters and rang the chime.

Garak opened the door, noting with surprise his guest's flustered appearance and frantic demeanor. Bashir looked deeply into Garak's face, and then his eyes widened with shock, delight and awe as he suddenly beheld - Garak's organ, fully erect and completely exposed.

"Oh dear God," he breathed. He stared at the spectacular object, mesmerized. "Garak, that is... that is... " he could barely choke out the words, "that is the most magnificent organ I have ever seen in my life."

"Why, thank you, doctor," Garak replied modestly. "I'm rather proud of it myself."

"Proud?!" Bashir gushed, amazed. "I should think you'd be ecstatic! That is absolutely incomparable!"

"Well, it's not something I can take credit for, all on my own. My parents had a lot to do with it."

"Maybe so, but it's all yours now, my friend, it's all yours." Bashir began to experience an unaccustomed shyness. "Ah, Garak - may I... may I... touch it?"

"Of course, doctor!" Garak gestured expansively. "Be my guest." 

Bashir approached the massive organ, his heart beating wildly. He tentatively ran one finger along its length, and then tried to grip part of it in his hand - it was much too large for that, however, and Bashir had to content himself with merely stroking and fondling it while Garak looked on, contentedly. When he could stand no more, he lowered his head and began to slide his tongue along its beautifully ornamented surface, discovering new delights at every turn. Garak, smiling and evidently pleased, finally spoke.

"Well, doctor, I really must begin putting our dinner on the table. But - may I suggest you try out my organ, while I do so? Why don't you have a little fun with it?"

"I really can't - " Bashir gasped, but Garak cut him off.

"Oh yes you can. It's my understanding that there are few humans who can't at least master 'Chopsticks.'" He pointed toward the organ. "Doctor, if you please."

Bashir seated himself, cracked his knuckles, and began to poke out "Chopsticks" on the keys of the beautiful old pipe organ. He wiped his hand over the trail his saliva had left, while Garak busied himself with the dinner preparations. After a while, both men moved to the seating area near the window, where Garak had set out the meal. Bashir kept stealing glances over his shoulder, however, at the impressive organ, so silent and unassuming now in a corner of the room.

Conversation throughout the dinner flowed freely and comfortably between the two old friends. Bashir began to wonder how in the world he could ever have denied himself the company of his charming companion for over a week. Well, no more - this was the beginning of a new relationship, a new start. Yes, he hoped for a physical dimension to the friendship, but at the same time he was willing to wait for it to develop of its own accord, without coercion. He was relieved that it was Dukat and not Garak, after all, who had listened to his graphic pleas. He stretched out on the couch contentedly, basking in the pleasant sound of his friend's voice, when his gaze drifted down and he stared, stupefied, at - Garak's balls.

There they were, lying in Garak's lap, gently rubbing against each other as he shifted in his seat - Bashir couldn't take his eyes off of them. When had Garak brought them out? More importantly, WHY had he brought them out? Bashir felt the blood rush to his head, as Garak enticingly rolled them around in his fingers, smiling at Bashir in his usual infuriating way.

"Doctor, is something wrong?" he asked with a grin.

"No... no, Garak, I'm fine. I'm - " he stopped, then leaned over and hesitantly, tentatively stretched a hand out toward Garak's lap. "May I?"

"Of course, doctor." Garak settled back against the cushion as Bashir began to trace delicate patterns across his balls with his fingers; then he cupped them in his hands and slowly lowered his head, his tongue darting out at them, his teeth nipping them. Garak sighed, and laced his fingers through Bashir's hair. "You really like them, don't you?" he asked. Bashir nodded. "You know, doctor," he said lazily, "they won't be much good for tennis if you keep soaking them like that."

"Oh - sorry," Bashir said, guiltily. "Here, let me dry them off for you."

"No, that's all right." Garak climbed to his feet, massaging his balls with his dinner napkin. "Just put them back in the container for me and I'll go get dessert." He walked over to the replicator while Bashir gathered up the still-damp balls and placed them back in their can.

"Now, doctor," Garak said brightly, "you'll find that I've chosen a simple and yet intoxicatingly delicious dessert - fresh strawberries and cream." Bashir smiled his approval. "And," he continued, "I think it would be most relaxing if we eat our dessert - on the bed." At that moment, the pipe organ in the corner gave out a resoundingly ominous chord, then slowly lapsed into silence once again. "I'll have to get O'Brien to take a look at that," Garak muttered.

Bashir obediently walked over to the bed and climbed up onto it; Garak sat next to him, a bowl of bright red strawberries in his lap. He selected a strawberry and held it in his gray fingers, near Bashir's mouth. Bashir had begun to reach for the bowl himself, then gave up as he realized that Garak planned to dole out the fruit. He opened his mouth and attempted to grab the strawberry away from Garak's hand with his teeth.

"Ah - ah - ah," Garak said. "Not yet, doctor. First you have to do something to earn this reward."

"What do I have to do?"

"You have to say you're my slave."

"I'm your slave," Bashir agreed, and lunged again for the berry. Garak pulled it back.

"Say you're my slave and you'll obey my orders," he taunted, holding the strawberry just out of Bashir's reach.

"I'm your slave and I'll obey your orders."

"Say you're my slave and you'll obey my orders, no matter how degrading or humiliating."

"I'm your slave and I'll obey your orders, no matter how degrading or humiliating." Bashir lunged yet again for the strawberry, but Garak continued to dangle it just out of reach.

"Say you're my slave and you'll obey my orders, no matter how degrading or humiliating, and you'll let me have sex with you whenever and however I choose."

Bashir grimaced. All this for one lousy strawberry? "All right," he conceded. "I'm your slave, and I'll obey your orders, no matter how degrading or humiliating, and... what was it again?"

"'I'll let you -' " Garak prompted.

"Oh, yes - and I'll let you have sex with me whenever and however you choose."

He opened his mouth for the strawberry, but Garak had again begun to speak. "Say you're my slave, and you'll obey my orders, no matter how degrading or humiliating, and you'll let me have sex with you whenever and however I choose, fe, fi, fo, fum, I smell the blood of an Englishman, be he live or be he - "

"Garak, this is ridiculous!" Bashir angrily jumped to his feet. "Forget the damned strawberry - I'm leaving."

"Oh, you can't leave yet, doctor." Garak overtook him at the door. "You haven't had your whipping - cream." He smiled, an evil glint behind his blue eyes.

Bashir, confused, allowed himself to be led back to the bed. "Okay, Garak, just let me have it," he sighed. Was this evening ever going to end?

"Certainly, doctor," the smooth voice replied. "Simply kneel down there, facing the headboard - yes, that's it - and I'll prepare you properly for your well-deserved and long overdue whipping - cream. It'll only take a moment." Bashir closed his eyes, then opened them wide in shock as he felt his wrists being buckled into cuffs attached to either side of the headboard.

"Garak - what - are you DOING?"

"Relax, doctor - this will just make it easier for me to deliver your whipping - cream," Garak purred. "Be back in a moment."

Bashir again closed his eyes. Never again, he vowed, never again will I allow myself to be put into this position -

"I'm back!" Garak proclaimed sweetly. Bashir tried to crane his neck around to see him. "You, doctor, are a very fortunate young man. People tell me that I'm very good at whipping - cream." Bashir heard something slice through the air with a loud crack. He flinched. "Oh, THAT," Garak shrugged. "I'm just making some popcorn. You know - to enjoy after I'm through whipping you - your cream."

"I'm waiting, Garak," Bashir called out impatiently. "You keep promising me dessert. So give it to me, Garak, and give it to me NOW."

"Yes, doctor," Garak replied, almost breathlessly. He reached out and pushed Bashir's shirt up to his neck, then stood back a little way from the bed and murmured, "Here it comes... "

At that moment, Bashir's communicator began to beep insistently. With a vicious growl, Garak grabbed the device and held it near Bashir's mouth.

"This is Bashir. Go ahead."

"Doctor," one of his nurses answered, "Gul Dukat is here to see you. He says it's urgent - he says only YOU can help him. Something about his scales... " She trailed off.

"Tell him I'm on my way." Bashir cursed. "He WOULD come in with some problem like that, just when I was finally going to get my dessert. Oh well. I can't take a chance and not see him - he could be in pain. Garak, do me a favor, will you?" He inclined his head toward the cuffs.

"Yes, doctor." Garak released him and watched as Bashir pulled his shirt back down and headed for the door.

"Oh, and Garak - I'm sorry about dessert. Would you be willing to give it to me later?"

"Doctor, I'm willing to - give it to you - at any time, day or night." A thought occurred to him, and he called to Bashir, who turned around to face him.

"What is it, Garak?"

"I'm feeling slightly - under the weather - myself. That message reminded me that I've ALSO been experiencing a little - irritation - under my skin lately. It's probably the same condition Dukat is suffering from - you could see us both at once and save yourself some trouble."

Bashir looked apologetic. "I don't normally like to do that, Garak. Patients tend to get very frustrated if they have to share me." At Garak's disappointed look, he shrugged and said, "Oh, all right, come along. No doubt there's some way I can satisfy both you and Dukat at the same time."

"No doubt there is, doctor," Garak readily agreed, "no doubt there is." He took Bashir's elbow and rapidly steered him toward the turbolift.

 

THE END


End file.
